on Easter

On the third day He rose from the dead and the world comes back to life as well. How beautiful that we prepare to celebrate the Resurrection when nature resurrects, too.

Today as I was sitting in my car lugging out the groceries I glanced at my just now burgeoning flower bed and noticed the leaves on my rose bush were turning red. I know little about gardening and my mother knows much, so I dialed her quick to ask:

“Mom, the leaves on my roses are turning red. Is that normal? Are they dying?”

“No,” she replied. “They’re preparing to bloom.”

As I hung up, I began to think of Good Friday and how His blood ran red down the wooden cross of my salvation–the Creator of roses with thorns pierced into His brow–and like the leaves, all turned red before life bloomed beautiful.

It’s as if Good Friday is the dreary winter we’ve been slogging through– hoping through– when suddenly, one day, the sun comes out and the earth smiles again. We step outside of our houses and let the warmth touch our skin free and unfettered. The trees wear joy as if they’ve too escaped the bondage of grey skies. But even if the winter ground grows dormant and cold, the roots remain rested, waiting to color the world for such a time as this–at Easter–when the winter-weary earth celebrates new life for all.

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands” (Isaiah 55:12).